On this early evening Buena Vista Social Club were playing loudly from the living room. And I was glad that our music could spill onto the street below, adding to the cocktail of the late summer air. The windows were open, but hesitantly, as this was the end of the season in Glasgow. Bright and brisk, the remnants of warmth are driven away by the night breeze. And with this breeze floats the strongest smells of the day; hot pavements, the coaly remnants of a barbeque down the street, tarmac laid out to dry. Mostly, it smelled fresh. In our flat, Hana and I were cleaning absently, awaiting Laurie with ingredients. After a full day at the shop, cleaning and testing a box of ancient cameras John had uncovered at a car boot sale (a more tiring job than you would expect), I was ready to overdose on food. And as usual Laurie was running late. Now and again my stomach would give a grumble and I would go to the window, looking out hopefully like a dog for his owner. Laurie had promised a tasty quesadilla recipe, staple for him and his brother.

Preparation, in my opinion, is always the most appetising part of a meal. Nothing seems more appealing and untouched than the inside of a vegetable, telling secrets of moisture, colour and scent. Even unpacking the ingredients is mouth-watering.